The Grave Soul
by Mizzykitty
Summary: Robin goes on a dangerous undercover mission to take down a kiddie porn ring, with Batman and Nightwing as backup.
1. Chapter 1

_Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence_. – Dorothy Dix

"You can't be serious," Dick said. "Look at him!" He gestured at the skinny boy playing dress up in his old uniform with an angry sweep of his arm. "He's what, twelve? Taking him on patrol is one thing – at least you're there if things get outta control. But you can't possibly think that it's okay to use him as bait for a bunch of sexual predators, even if it is to take down the largest kiddie porn ring in Gotham!"

"I'm thirteen, asshole, and just because you couldn't hack it doesn't mean I can't," Jason cut in.

"Couldn't hack it?" Dick repeated in disbelief. "Look, kid, I've been training since I was old enough to walk. I learned how to fly before I learned how to ride a bike. You've been training for six months, and you've been on the job for what, a month? Do you really think you're ready for a solo mission, especially one as dangerous as this?"

"Two months, and I'm not a fucking kid!" Jason spat. "I grew up in Gotham, in the neighbourhood we patrol, and I know more about what goes down in this city than you ever will, _Dick_."

"Using my name like an insult – real original!" Dick sneered.

"He has a point," Batman interjected.

Dick bristled at the rejoinder, but when he saw the way Jason straightened at the tinge of pride in Batman's voice, it was like being kicked in the gut. He remembered what that was like, the yearning for approval, the unshakeable faith in His wisdom, the certainty that he would follow Him into Hell if that was what it took. Dick wanted to slap some sense into the kid, warn him, shake him, _make_ him see that Batman was just as flawed and fallible as the rest of them, but he stood paralysed by the weight of countless years of experience. He closed his eyes and swallowed down the clot in his throat. If Batman had asked him to do this when he was Robin, he knew exactly how he would've reacted. Minus the casual swearing – allowed these days, it seemed - he would've done the same.

"Why don't you run along now and let the grownups talk," Dick said to Jason, though he kept his eyes on Batman. Even then, he sensed Jason's hackles rise a good inch or two.

"Look, old man-"

"Give us a minute, Jason," Batman interrupted.

Dick glanced over just in time to see hurt flicker over Jason's face before a stubborn frown replaced it. Yes, it was all so very sickeningly familiar.

"But-"

"Now," Batman commanded.

Jason let out a petulant huff, but he leapt up onto one of the overhead platforms and was gone before Dick drew his next breath.

"Two months! He's been Robin for two months, Bruce!" Dick exploded. "Covert ops are psychologically demanding, and they're tough even for seasoned cops. He's not ready for this kind of pressure. You're just setting him up to fail, and this time the stakes are a lot higher than one of your little pass/fail scenarios."

"How would you know what he's capable of?" Batman countered. "You haven't been back to Gotham since the gauntlet."

Dick's temper flared at the criticism, but he kept his angry retorts to himself. It wouldn't have mattered what he said about the good he was doing in Bludhaven, or with the Titans. In Bruce's eyes, he'd abandoned Gotham, and the Batman.

"These past eight months, I've trained with Jason, fought with him, bled with him. I know what he's capable of, and not only is he ready, he's willing."

"Of course he's willing; he'd jump off a bridge stark naked if you asked him to," Dick said with a roll of his eyes. The gesture would have been impossible to see behind his whiteout lenses but he knew it carried through in his voice nonetheless. "He has no idea what he's getting himself into. Have you thought about what would happen if something goes wrong, what situation that would leave him in?"

"Thoroughly," Batman said flatly. "He'll be on comms, and we'll have eyes on him at all times. If it starts to go south, we'll abort."

Dick shook his head. "You're unbelievable, you know that? I never blamed you for all those 'boy hostage' situations, but now, I have to wonder how much of that was preventable. How many times did I follow you down the rabbit hole, blindly trusting that you'd worked out every angle and planned for every contingency? Now I see you were just rolling the dice every time we stepped out the door!"

Batman's lips compressed into a thin, hard line, and his hands seemed to form fists of their own accord. Dick instinctively braced for an attack. After several more interminable minutes of glaring, jaw clenching silence, however, Batman turned away from him, and Dick knew the discussion was over.

"We're going, with or without you. If you truly care for his safety, you'll be there to watch his back."

Dick sighed. What chance did he ever have to fight Bat logic?

* * *

"Well, whaddya think?"

Dick turned around and just managed to suppress a gasp of horror. Batman was not so lucky – Dick caught the hitch in his breath even from two paces away.

Jason looked down at his threadbare t-shirt and holey jeans before eyeing them both apprehensively. "What?" he demanded. "Alfred made me throw away my old clothes, and the ones you bought me a few months ago still look too new."

"Where did you get those?" Batman asked, his voice carefully neutral.

"I'm afraid _I_ gave them to him, Master Bruce," Alfred said from the top of the stairs. He descended a moment later with a tray full of tea and sandwiches.

Jason's gaze darted between the three men before it finally settled on Dick. "These are your old clothes, aren't they?"

Dick nodded. He had packed light when he'd left the Manor for the last time as a resident. At the time, he hadn't considered what would happen to all the things he'd left behind – he'd just assumed that Alfred would dispose of them. It didn't surprise him that Alfred had kept some of it, either as mementos or in the hopes that he'd return some day. It had to be Alfred – Bruce would probably have had a bonfire with his stuff, if he'd known any of it was still in the house.

"They're a bit big on you," Batman said, "but it does make you seem younger."

"And more vulnerable," Dick added, his lip curling with disgust.

"Yeah," Jason said as a positively predatory smirk slid slowly across his face. He fisted a hand on his narrow hip. "Those paedo fucks won't know what hit 'em."

"Language," Batman admonished, though Dick found that evil smirk on such an innocent looking boy far more disconcerting than the filth pouring from his mouth.

"I took the liberty of sewing a communications unit into the shirt, as I do with the uniforms," Alfred said.

"That's great and all, but what if they take my clothes off?" Jason asked.

Dick grimaced, but if Batman reacted to the question, Dick couldn't tell.

"Then you'll have this," Batman said as he handed Jason a watch. "Even if we can't hear you, we'll still be able to track you with this."

Jason put on the cheap-looking black plastic wristwatch with some cartoon character or other decorating the face. It looked like exactly the sort of thing a kid might wear. The knowledge that Bruce had planned this down to the last detail should have put Dick's mind at ease, but instead it made him feel slightly nauseous. There was something deeply disturbing about Batman putting that much time and energy into thinking about how he can dress Robin up as a child prostitute.

"What about weapons?" Jason asked.

Batman shook his head. "We can't take the risk. They're likely to search you, and if you're carrying a weapon, it will raise their suspicions. We want them to think you're an ordinary street kid."

Jason snorted. "Come on, Bruce, even ordinary street kids carry weapons. At least let me have a blade. I could hide it in my shoe."

"He's probably right," Dick said. "Even if they end up discovering it, it's plausible that a kid living on the street would have one, and it will help sell his story."

"All right," Batman relented. "But I don't have a knife to give you – at least, not one that would fit the persona."

"It's ok, I already took care of it," Jason said. He patted the high-top sneaker on his right foot with a grin.

"Next thing you know, he'll be hiding switchblades in his pixie boots," Dick muttered under his breath.

Batman sighed, but he didn't comment.

"All right, so come on, are we gonna stand here all night, or are we gonna do this?" Jason asked, bouncing unconsciously from foot to foot in his excitement.

Dick glanced at Batman. "Ready when you are," he said.

Batman nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

Dick perched on his rooftop vantage point and scanned the area with his binoculars. The streets looked empty, but there was life, if you knew where to look. Furtive movements in shadowy corners, the odd voice carried on the wind, the occasional person smoking in a doorway, shoulders hunched against the biting wind. Even in his thinsulate Nightwing suit, Dick was starting to get a bit chilly from inactivity. He swung his binoculars back to Jason, who was standing on the street corner fifteen floors below and shaking like a leaf in his tattered t-shirt and torn jeans.

"How you holdin' up, little wing?" he murmured.

"Like gangbusters," Jason said brightly, though he couldn't quite manage to suppress the chattering of his teeth. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He brought the pack to his lips, extracted one cigarette, and lit it with practised ease.

"Where did you get that?" Batman snapped, his voice tight with disapproval.

"It's all part of the image, right? Don't sweat it, B," Jason said. He took a deep drag, held it for a few seconds, and exhaled a long stream of smoke and steam into the frosty night with an obscene groan of pleasure.

"We talked about this," Batman insisted. "Lung capacity, stamin-"

"Seriously?" Jason interjected. "You're pimping my twelvie ass on a street corner at two in the morning, and you're gonna lecture me about the evils of smoking?"

Dick clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle a hoot of laughter. "He's got you there, B," he said with a low chuckle. He felt a warmth in his chest when Jason shot a conspiratorial grin in his general direction.

Batman's irritated silence only made Jason smoke with more exaggerated enjoyment, and Dick couldn't help but shake his head at the sheer audacity of the kid.

"Heads up, we have company," Batman said.

Dick's attention snapped to the car rolling slowly down the street. It squeaked to a stop in front of Jason and the passenger side window rolled down like an open invitation.

Jason took a final drag on his cigarette before he flicked the butt away. He approached the car with a sultry, slouching gait and draped himself over the open window. "Hey man, you lookin' for a good time?" he drawled.

"How old are you, kid?" the john asked. His voice was low and gravelly, and though the ability of the omnidirectional mic to pick up sound degraded the farther the person was from the mic, Dick could hear him quite clearly.

"Old enough to know better, young enough not to care," Jason quipped. "You like what you see? 'cause I'm definitely diggin' what I see."

The john hesitated. "You a cop or something? I heard about these sting operations on TV. It's called entrapment!"

Jason snorted. "Do I look like a cop to you?"

"No, you look like a kid. Shouldn't you be home doing your homework?"

"Get rid of him," Batman said. "I ran his plates – he's not connected to the ring."

"Shouldn't you be home fucking your wife?" Jason retorted without missing a beat.

"What? Hey, fuck you!"

"Yeah, you wish," Jason said. He kicked the car door hard enough to dent it. "Get outta here, you sick freak!"

"What the fuck? You little cocktease!"

Jason kicked the car again. "Get the fuck outta here, asshole, before I start screaming and that crazy batfreak shows up! I hear he ain't too partial to paedos!"

"Fuck this, man, I don't need this shit," the john yelled as he peeled away with a screech of tires.

Jason flipped the john off and yelled a few more obscenities for good measure until the car disappeared around the corner.

"Crazy batfreak?" Batman said, and Dick could almost hear his eyebrow raising.

Jason laughed. "Hey, it got rid of him, didn't it?"

Dick chuckled. "Your reputation precedes you, B."

Jason grinned up at each of them in turn, and Dick couldn't help but notice how easy this seemed for him. He was so completely in his element that he looked like he belonged there, in those clothes, on that street corner. Maybe Bruce was right about this one –Jason was a tough, smart kid, and he was handling this like a pro, thinking on his feet, adapting to the situation. He smiled, feeling some of his anxiety ebb.

"Man, one customer in two hours, that's dire even for me. You really think they'll come?" Jason said. He paced back and forth a few times and finally drew out another cigarette.

"They'll come," Batman assured him.

"You keep smoking like that and you'll stunt your growth," Dick said.

Jason snorted. "I'll still be taller than you, old man."

"How d'you figure that, squirt, when you can barely fit into my old clothes?" Dick teased.

"'cause my old man was taller'n you, almost as tall as B, and bigger'n you, too. Ma always said I looked just like him."

Dick winced at the wistfulness in his voice, obvious even through the somewhat tinny mic. "I'm sure you'll-"

"Incoming," Batman cut in.

The three of them watched as a large black van with blackout windows rolled down the street and came to a stop in front of Jason. The passenger side window rolled down.

"Hey kid, how much for a blowjob?" the man asked without preamble.

Jason made a show of eyeing the man up and down. "For you, twenty."

The man grinned and jerked a thumb at the van's side door. "Get in," he said.

"Mind if I finish my smoke?" Jason asked.

"Hey, I ain't got all night, you know?" the man said impatiently.

"The van matches the description from the witnesses you interviewed, but I need to confirm that the plates match," Batman said.

"Stall him, Robin," Dick said.

"All right, all right, keep your pants on," Jason said. "Just gimme a sec." He moved to the side door and hesitated, his hand hovering over the door handle.

Suddenly, the van door flung open. Someone inside grabbed Jason's wrist and tried to yank him into the van. Jason jerked back instinctively, pulling the man into view. Dick caught a glimpse of a man dressed in black, with a black ski mask on his face, and a cold shiver ran down his spine.

"What the hell?" Jason yelped as he struggled to break out of the man's grip. "Get the fuck off me, asshole!"

Dick thought the struggle was an act – at least, he hoped it was. "Come on, B, we need a confirmation."

"Thirty seconds," Batman said.

The man reached for his belt and whipped out a gun.

Dick gripped the wingding in his hand so hard it cut into his palm. "Come on, come on," he muttered.

Jason moved to kick the gun out of the man's hand, but just then, the driver leapt out of the passenger side door and grabbed him from behind. Thrown off balance by the two hundred pound man clinging to his back, Jason's kick went wild and caught the gunman across the face. The gunman staggered back from the blow.

"It's confirmed, Robin, it's them!" Batman said. A mixture of relief and dread flooded through Dick, with queasy results.

The gunman howled in pain. "Ah fuck, I think he broke my nose!"

"Serves you right, you kid-fucking perv!" Jason retorted.

The driver locked Jason's arms behind him and the man with the gun slugged him in the stomach. When Jason doubled over in agony, the gunman cracked him across the back of the head with the butt of the gun. Jason went limp in the driver's arms.

"Ow, fuck!" the gunman yelled as he touched his bleeding nose. "Fucking kid!"

The driver dumped Jason unceremoniously into the van. "Violent little shit, ain't he?"

"Robin? Can you hear me? Make a sound if you can hear me," Batman said.

Dick thought Bruce sounded remarkably composed, considering how his own heart was hammering in his chest. He strained to hear something, anything from Jason's mic, but all he heard were the sounds of the men manhandling Jason into the van.

"This wasn't part of the plan. He wasn't supposed to be unconscious. Why did it take so long to ID the van?" Dick asked in frustration.

"I had to cross reference the registration with known members of the ring – it takes as long as it takes. Relax, Nightwing. He'll come to eventually, and in the meantime, we can still track him. Get ready to move."

Dick shot his grappling gun and swung down to street level, where he had hidden his bike behind a large dumpster. He heard the heavy van door slide shut followed by the roar of the engine as it accelerated away. A fraction of a second later, he looked up to see a dark, sleek shape take off from the rooftop of a building a block away. His bike roared to life a second later, and he sped after the van.

* * *

"Fucking kid," the gunman swore. He grunted, and Dick heard the unmistakeable sound of someone hitting a body, as though the man had deliberately kicked Jason's unconscious form.

Dick tried to concentrate on the little green blip on his screen, to take solace from it, but it was nearly impossible not to imagine all the things that could be happening to Jason inside that van. As leader of the Titans, it was sometimes his obligation to send his friends into perilous situations, but they rarely conducted covert operations like this. As he'd learned during those months between Robin and Nightwing, the costume accorded you a certain amount of respect, and fear of retribution from superpowered friends tended to reduce the chances of things like this happening to you. Granted, sometimes it also painted a giant target on your back, as his boy hostage days proved, but at least then you could fight your enemy in earnest, without pretense or pulled punches.

"Hey man, watch how you mark the merchandise. You know the boss don't like it when we bring 'em in all roughed up. The clients like to do their own marking, if you know what I mean."

"Will you look at my fucking face? Do I look like I give a shit what he wants?" The gunman grunted again, and Dick winced. "He's lucky I don't slit the little bastard's throat. In fact, I think I deserve a little somethin' for my trouble. He ain't pretty like some of the others, but hey, a hole's a hole, right?"

Dick bit the inside of his mouth so hard he tasted blood. "B, we can't…"

"Robin, wake up!" Batman hissed.

"Hey, I told you to lay off, man! You know how much shit we'd be in? You break it, you bought it."

"Come on, I'll be all gentle-like, no one'll even know."

"That's it, get your ass up here, you're driving. We're already barely making quota this month; I ain't getting less than top dollar for this one just because you can't keep your dick in your pants!"

The gunman sighed. There were sounds of shifting and grunting. The van swerved slightly in front of Dick when the kidnappers changed drivers, but then it righted itself.

"Well, at least you didn't mark his face…much. Hey wait a minute…I know this kid. Son of a bitch, I know this kid!"

"Whaddya mean?" the gunman asked.

"We had one escape, almost a year ago. Vicious little bastard almost bit clean through O'Malley's ear, and then he jumped out of the van going sixty down the freeway. I don't even know how the kid survived, but fucking hell, it's him all right. O'Malley's gonna want a piece of this kid, for sure."

"Hey, he's gotta wait in line, 'cause I want mine first!"

"Yeah well, the boss'll decide what happens to him. Now shut up and drive."

Dick snarled inarticulately, slamming a fist down hard on the handlebar of his bike. "Did you know about this?" he demanded.

"I…had my suspicions," Batman said in a strained whisper.

"Goddammit!" Dick swore as realisation hit him like a fist to the face. The reason Jason looked so at home on that street corner was that it probably _was_ his corner, before Bruce picked him up. And that comment about how slow trade was…Dick wanted to kick himself. Actually, he wanted to kick Bruce, repeatedly, and then Jason for a little while, and then Bruce again for good measure. "This whole operation was his idea, wasn't it? You lied to me!"

"I knew you would never have agreed if you knew the truth."

"You're goddamn right I wouldn't have, because it's beyond reckless! How could you let him do this?"

"He'd been investigating their operation for months in secret before I caught him. He was obsessed with finding out where they kept the children. I knew it would be pointless to forbid him. Sooner or later, he would have tried this, with or without our help."

"So you just went along with it?" Dick asked incredulously. He found it difficult to believe that if he were in Jason's place, Bruce would have allowed let alone condoned such blatant insubordination. They were talking about a man who was so controlling that he'd actually fired Dick for having a life outside of his commitments as Robin.

"He has more demons than anyone his age has any right to have. I wanted to let him work through them in his own way, on his own terms. You remember what it was like, when we collared Zucco."

Dick couldn't deny that vengeance had felt good, but in hindsight, he wasn't sure that that was what he'd needed at the time. Still, it was Bruce, and he was trying, damn hard from the sounds of it. He let out a grudging sigh. Bruce was, well, Bruce, and Dick couldn't fault his intentions, even if he questioned his methods.

"So what's the pla-"

A low moan cut Dick off.

"Robin?" Batman snapped. "Can you hear me? Say 'help' if you're all right."

"Help me," Jason whimpered pathetically.

"Hey, look who's awake," the driver (now passenger) sneered. "Give it up, kid, we know who you are."

"He means they've kidnapped you before," Dick warned, just in case Jason took that the wrong way.

"What? How?" Jason asked.

"They recognised you while you were unconscious," Dick said.

"We're going to talk about this, later," Batman said. Dick had always been impressed with his ability to make any statement sound like a threat, and this time was no exception.

"I never forget a face, that's how," the driver cum passenger said. "You're the little bastard that bit O'Malley."

Jason groaned. "Come on, gimme a break already. I did what I had to do."

"That may be, but we don't appreciate being lied to," Dick said.

"Hey, it's no skin off my ear. I thought it was funny. But O'Malley, the boss man, I don't know what they're gonna do when they figure out who you are."

"I know what _I'm_ gonna do to you, you little prick," the gunman said from the driver's seat. "You broke my fucking nose!"

"I'm sorry," Jason said. "I mean it. I just…I didn't know what else to do."

Dick sighed. "We'll talk about it later," he said in a less ominous tone than the one Batman had used.

The gunman snorted. "Beg all you want, kid; we're gonna fuck you six ways from Sunday."

"Cut it out," the passenger said. "Look, kid, you got out. Why'd you go back to the life? You know if it wasn't us, it'd be some other perv with a taste for the sick shit. What'd you think was gonna happen in the end?"

"Times are tough. Even rich folks don't carry much cash on 'em these days. Anyway, what do you care what happens to me, asshole?"

The man sighed. "I don't," he said simply. "Pull over, this is it."

The van pulled in under an overpass, right next to a dark sedan parked in the shadows. Except for the overpass, they were on an open stretch of road - no buildings, no trees, not a scrap of cover in sight. Dick was forced to stop a half-mile back in order to remain undetected.

"Can you see what's happening?" Dick asked.

"Negative. My line of sight is blocked by the overpass."

"I can't get close to them either, not without exposing myself."

There were voices coming from Jason's comm, new voices, presumably men from the parked sedan. Dick couldn't make out what they were saying. Then he heard the van door slide open, and the voices suddenly got louder.

"Get him out here. It's time to unwrap the presents," a new voice said.

There was a sound of boots hitting dirt, like Jason jumped out of the van. A child began to scream, and suddenly there were multiple young voices sobbing and wailing. Over the din, Dick heard Jason say, "Hey, get the fuck off her!"

"Robin? What's happening?" Batman demanded.

"No, leave 'em alone!" Jason shouted, his voice edged with an outrage that Dick found difficult to believe was faked.

Suddenly, they heard sounds of a scuffle, grunts and bitten-off curses.

"Ow, the son of a bitch has a knife!"

"Watch it!"

There was more grunting, and then, "Got you, you little shit!"

"Ah!" Jason gasped. The sound of his hitching, ragged breaths filled Dick's ears, and it was all Dick could do not to storm the van with every weapon in his arsenal.

"Robin? Are you injured?" Batman asked, his voice sounding more strained than Dick had heard it in a very long time.

"No," Jason whispered, though Dick suspected he had been stuck with his own knife.

"Someone shut those fucking brats up!" a voice snapped.

There was a tearing sound, like duct tape being ripped from a roll, and soon the crying was muffled.

"C'm'ere, smart ass," the gunman growled. "You think you're smart, don't'cha? You think you can pull a knife on me and get away with it?"

"Come on man, we don't got all night for your little games. Strip the punk down and let's go!" the driver said.

"Dammit, B, we gotta pull him out. Without the comm-"

"No, please," Jason begged. "At least let me keep the shirt…"

The gunman laughed, or a mocking, cruel imitation of laughter, anyway. "Trust me, kid, you won't need it where you're going."

"We planned for this contingency," Batman said. "He still has the tracker, and that's all we really need."

Dick ground his teeth. "How can you sit there and-"

Jason suddenly cried out. The sound was cut off abruptly, followed by loud noises from Jason's mic indicating rough handling.

"Robin, Robin?" Batman shouted into the comm. Dick's ears crackled from the noise, but he pressed the earpiece harder into his skull, straining to hear any signs of life over the din.

Finally, the noise stopped. Faintly, as though from far away, Dick heard a low moan. He recognised Jason's voice, and realised that his mic was no longer near him, which meant that they'd stripped him of his clothes.

"I'm ending this," Dick said, reaching for his escrima.

"Wait," Batman said. "You heard him. He said no."

"Are you kidding me?" Dick hissed into his comm unit.

"He's alive, and-"

"Help …" Jason whimpered. "Please, don't…"

"And he's all right," Batman said with undisguised relief.

Dick let out a shaky breath. He reluctantly let go of his escrima and resorted to gripping his bike handlebars so hard his fingers ached.

From a distance and through his earpiece, he heard the van doors slide shut with a heavy whump. A moment later, the two vehicles took off in opposite directions, the sedan traveling north and the van going back the way it had come. Dick had only seconds to get off the road before the occupants of the van saw him. He slid his bike into a ditch and flattened himself to the ground, praying they hadn't seen him as they roared past. He leapt up a moment later and pushed his bike back onto the road.

"The tracker is headed north, with the car," Batman informed him.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Dick demanded.

"I want you to follow the van back to Gotham," Batman said. "There's a chance they didn't switch vehicles. We can't be sure which one he's in."

"You just said that the tracker was in the car," Dick argued.

"Yes, but we also know that they've removed his clothing. This might well have included the watch. Robin's comm link is still live, but all I can hear is road noise. They could have transferred the clothes to the trunk of the car and left him in the van."

"Why in the world would they do that if they didn't know the clothes were bugged? That's pretty paranoid, even for kidnappers. If you're so convinced that he's still in the van, why don't I follow the car, and you follow the van?" Dick suggested.

"Negative, Nightwing. I'm already in pursuit. Call me if you find anything. Batman out."

"Godammit B, don't do this!" Dick shouted as the comm link went dead. He kicked his bike to life with more force than was strictly necessary and turned to catch the retreating van. Rage roiled in his stomach as he watched the green blip on his screen moving in the opposite direction. "He had the presence of mind to assure us that he was okay, what are the chances that he forgot to tell us that they removed the tracker? Now you've sent me on a wild goose chase, and for what? So that you can save the day all by yourself? Don't you think he'd have a better chance if he had both of us there when the fighting starts? I know you resent my involvement in any of your cases, but for god's sake, why did you ask for my help if you weren't going to let me help you?" he ranted. He knew that Batman had muted his comm link on his end, but it felt, if not good, then at least slightly less frustrating, to get it off his chest. Besides, there was always the hope that Batman had left the channel open, just in case.

He quelled the urge to turn the bike around, to follow the green dot speeding away from his red dot. He would obey orders, because that's what he did, but he swore this would be the last time he answered a call from Bruce. He sighed. Even as he thought it, he knew it wouldn't stick. No matter what happened between them, he would always come when Bruce called, end of story.

The hour back to Gotham on the trail of the black van definitely made it to the top ten list of most harrowing events in Dick's life, top fifteen at the outside. As unpleasant as he had found listening to those disgusting paedophiles oh-so-casually discuss sexually assaulting a person he considered family, flying without eyes and ears on the enemy was like flying blind, and he desperately wished he could still hear those degenerates talking. Actually, if he was going to wish to hear anything, he supposed he should wish for Jason's voice. If that monumental moron was still alive at the end of this, Dick was going to murder him, several times over.

Finally, when they hit the outskirts of Gotham, the van began to slow, its red brake lights glowing in the distance. Dick hung back as it pulled into an abandoned warehouse parking lot. He stashed the bike in a stand of bushes a half mile down the road and jogged back to the warehouse. By the time he got there, the van was empty and so was the parking lot. He crept cautiously up to the dark and silent warehouse. If Jason was in there, and that was a pretty big if, he was going to find him.


	2. Chapter 2

Jason opened his eyes and quickly shut them again. The bright overhead lights seemed to pierce straight into his brain. He rolled over and groaned softly. He opened his eyes again and found himself face to face with a filthy mattress. He did a quick mental check of his condition as Bruce had taught him. His head was throbbing, and focusing his thoughts seemed to be taking longer than usual. It was probably a mild concussion from when that asshole with the gun clocked him in the head – twice. He was also thirsty, his mouth tasted like an ash tray, he had a deep cut in his left side just under his ribcage courtesy of his own knife, and oh yeah, he was totally buck naked. He sat up slowly and blinked at his surroundings. From the looks of it, he was sitting on a bed in a concrete room with no windows. He looked down to find a heavy chain leading from a thick metal collar around his neck to the head of the bed. Naked and chained to a bed, how original, he thought sarcastically. In all the months he'd peddled sex for money, he'd encountered few truly original fetishes. Everyone thought their fantasies were so twisted, but really they were all just variations on the same mundane theme.

For months he'd waited for the other shoe to drop, for Bruce to finally reveal what flavour of rich guy, poor kid, daddy fantasy he had planned for Jason. Turned out the guy just got off on beating the shit out of people while dressed in a giant bat costume. Jason had to give him props for originality. He'd been relieved, initially, and had been happy to play along so long as the guy wasn't interested in shoving anything into him, his dick or otherwise. At least, that's what Jason had told himself…right up until he actually put on the costume. In that instant, everything changed. For the first time in his miserable life, he felt powerful. He wasn't just nobody gutter rat Jason Todd, he was Robin. People knew him, important people like the police commissioner and the district attorney. He mattered, and the things he did made a difference in other people's lives. From that moment on, he threw himself into Robin, not just physically but body, mind, and spirit. He'd never cared so much about anything, not even, he was ashamed to admit, his parents. Jason figured that, given the opportunity, he would probably die for Bruce.

Bruce. He groaned and buried his face in his hands. Both Bruce and Dick were pissed at him now that they knew about his prior involvement in this case. Why couldn't that stupid kidnapper have kept his big mouth shut? When Batman and Nightwing found him, they were going to-

Jason checked his wrist and frowned. When had he lost the watch? His mind raced. The van, the car, his clothes, after he lost consciousness? It had to have been. But did they take it before they brought him here, or after? Did Bruce and Dick know where he was? He fought down the rising wave of panic in his chest. Oh god, had they lost him? He had been searching for this location for months, with no success. If Batman and Nightwing hadn't tracked him to this location, then they would never find him. What's worse, that meant that all the other kids would never be found either!

"Oh, fuck me," Jason breathed. Some hero he turned out to be. He was pretty sure Superman never got stripped naked and chained to a bed while trying to rescue people.

He shook his head. He had to stop feeling sorry for himself and find a way to save those kids. Batman frequently told him that his worst enemy was himself, and he was inclined to agree. He just had to push back all the negative shit and focus on the next step, the way Bruce taught him.

He gave the chain an experimental tug. It was solid, as was the collar; he could tell just from the weight of it. The room had no windows, no vents, no exits at all except a well-padded door which he suspected sported a heavy duty lock. No, there was no way he was breaking out of this room. That left using the key, which meant lifting it off someone, which meant getting someone to come into the room. A plan began to take shape in his mind's eye. He turned to grin at the camera mounted in the corner of the ceiling opposite the door.

"Hey!" he shouted at the top of his lungs at the camera. He rattled the chain against the metal bedpost and waved his arms. "Hellooooo, anybody out there? I'm awake now – don't you want a piece of this sweet ass?"

He continued to mock the camera obnoxiously until he heard footsteps echoing down the corridor outside his door. He tensed expectantly. A key scraped in the lock, and the door opened a moment later to reveal a large, dirty blonde thug with one mangled ear.

"Hey, O'Malley, isn't it?" Jason said, flashing him a wide smile that was all teeth.

"You're the little cumrag that did this to me," O'Malley snarled with a gesture at his ear.

"The one and only," Jason said, waving his hand with a little flourish. "Listen, O'Malley, seeing as how we have all this history, maybe you could help me out, for old time's sake. You know, lend an ear?"

O'Malley growled, but whatever insult he had lined up was interrupted when someone else walked into the room. Jason's attention snapped to the newcomer. He reflexively slid into a defensive crouch. This was bad – real bad. One guy he could take, but no way could he take down two guys at once, not in this confined space, and certainly not while chained to the bed.

"Hey shitstain, guess what?" the newcomer said, and Jason immediately recognised him as the gunman from the van, sans ski mask. An ugly smirk split the man's face in two. "I had a little chat with the boss man, and he's decided to make an example out of you. When we're done with you, ain't no kid's gonna wanna run away ever again."

Jason backed warily away from the two thugs. He could take them, he could; he just needed an opening. Batman always said a successful first strike could turn the fight in your favour despite the odds.

"What, no smart mouth remarks?" the gunman sneered.

"Guess I'm fresh out," Jason said. "Come back tomorrow."

O'Malley barked out a laugh. "He's funny. You didn't tell me he was funny."

The two men closed in on Jason, forcing him up onto the bed as they flanked him on either side.

Suddenly, he saw an opening, and kicked at the gunman's head. It was a solid strike, but unfortunately, his movement was brought up short by the chain. All the gunman had to do was step back to avoid the sweep of his leg. Jason growled in frustration. O'Malley made a clumsy grab for him, which he dodged easily. The fucker's failed attack brought him within range, though, and Jason took the opportunity to knee him in the chin and ram the heel of his hand up under his nose. O'Malley staggered back with a yowl of pain, blood exploding from his busted nose. It didn't seem to stop him for long, though, and with an outraged roar, he lunged at Jason's legs. Jason jumped to avoid him, and almost choked himself on the chain. He crashed unceremoniously down onto the bed. The gunman was on him in a hot minute, fists flying at Jason's head. Jason rolled out of the way just in time, but right into O'Malley, who put a fist in his stomach. He doubled up as tears sprang involuntarily to his eyes. O'Malley descended on him, pummelling him mercilessly with his big ham hock hands - kidney shot, solar plexus, liver, fuck, right in the knife wound! Jason curled into a foetal ball and tried his best to protect his head with his hands, but he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take and still fight when the time came. If the time came, a treacherous voice inside him whispered.

"Back off, O'Malley. I want mine," the gunman growled.

The rain of blows stopped, but the relief was short-lived. A second later, the gunman climbed on top of him and sat on his chest. Jason tried to kick him, to no avail. O'Malley's big hands closed around his ankles and yanked his legs apart. Not for the first time, he was glad he'd worked so hard on his flexibility, because that probably would have hurt an ordinary person.

"Get the fuck off me!" Jason snarled, blindly kicking at O'Malley, trying to break the thug's hold on his legs. He punched at the gunman looming above him, but he was too close to do much damage, and his arms were too short to reach the more vulnerable points on the bastard's neck and face. Unfazed, the gunman grabbed him by a handful of hair and yanked his head back. Jason hissed, hands reflexively reaching up to pry those steel trap fingers from his scalp. With his other hand, the gunman began to undo his pants. Despite the agonising pull on his hair, Jason tried to punch him in the balls. The man quickly transferred his hold to Jason's wrists to subdue him.

The gunman laughed. "What're you gonna do now, smartass?"

"You put that thing near my mouth, and I'll bite it clean off," Jason gasped. He'd aimed for a deadly snarl, but he could barely breathe with the asshole sitting on his chest.

"I even feel so much as a tooth graze me and I'll castrate you," the gunman threatened.

Jason huffed out something resembling a laugh. "What do I care? You're gonna kill me anyway. I might as well take your frank and beans with me."

"Who said anything about killing you?" the gunman said. "No one gives a shit if you've got a dick, so long as you've got two serviceable holes."

"_You_ won't have a dick when I'm done with you," Jason retorted.

The gunman pulled back his fist and punched Jason in the face. It was like getting hit with a brick. Jason's world exploded in a haze of red and black and pain all over. It didn't stop with just the one, either. The man just kept hammering at him, and somewhere between hearing his nose break and choking on his own blood, it dawned on him that maybe he wasn't going to get the chance to die for Bruce after all.

"Just the way I like my meat – tenderized," O'Malley mocked.

"Now we'll see what that smart mouth can really do," the gunman said.

* * *

Dick tied off the men in the control room and then stopped to scan the monitors. There were dozens of monitors – dozens of children in identical cells, chained to identical beds. In a few of the rooms, men were actively attacking children. Dick's hands clenched into fists as a rage he had never known welled up inside him. Batman would be here soon in the Bat plane, but for the moment, he would have to triage the cases. In the top left monitor, two men were clearly about to rape a struggling child. That was his first priority – stopping the men on the monitors from attacking those kids, starting with the kid on the top left.

"Sorry, Robin, you're just gonna have to wait," he muttered.

He dug around in the pockets of the unconscious guards until he found their keys, and then sprinted down the corridor in search of the room on the monitor. When he found the room, he unlocked the door and kicked it open.

The two men turned to gawk at him in undisguised shock.

"Get off her!" Dick snarled. He yanked the bigger of the two off the kid and slammed a knee into his exposed groin. The man squealed like a stuck pig, face going as grey as the dirty concrete walls around them. He sank to the ground in almost comical slow motion.

"What the fu-AAAH!" the other man screamed.

Dick pulled back and kicked the man on the ground again in the groin, as hard as he could. The man went limp and the squealing stopped abruptly. Dick whipped around to look for the other paedophile. It struck him odd that the guy hadn't attacked him yet. Then he realised why, and his heart skipped a beat. Jason…the kid was Jason, and he had his chain wrapped around the other guy's throat. The man's complexion was rapidly turning a hideous mottled purple and his eyes were starting to bug out of his head.

"Stop!" Dick shouted. "That's enough, let him go!"

He tried to grab Jason's hands but the second he got close enough, Jason turned and snarled at him like a feral animal. Dick took an involuntary step backwards, stunned by the bright red blood smeared all over Jason's face and the psychotic glint in his eye.

"I know what you're feeling, but he's not worth it," Dick said gently. Slowly, he put a hand on Jason's wrist. "Jason, let him go."

Jason glared at him for a long moment, and Dick could see him struggling to rein in his murderous rage. Almost imperceptibly, his hold on the chain slackened. Two heartbeats later, he let go altogether and the man slumped to the bed unconscious. Jason spat a golfball-sized chunk of bloody flesh at him. "Suck on that," he hissed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, though it really only managed to smear the blood around on his face.

Dick rolled the man over so that he could check to make sure he was still breathing. Then he made the mistake of looking down past the man's chest, and almost gagged at the bloody, mangled ruins of the man's genital area. He swallowed down the bile in the back of his throat and tried very hard not to look at it, or at the blood slicking Jason's chin.

Eager to distract himself from the horrors of the room, he said, "Here, let me get that," and reached to unlock the collar around Jason's neck. A moment later, the thick metal collar fell onto the bed with a dull clink.

Dick gave Jason a quick once-over and made a mental note of both the knife wound in his side and the disturbing stains on his thighs. He told himself that it didn't necessarily mean anything. After all, Jason's entire naked body was streaked with blood, and Dick thought that a lot of it probably wasn't his. "Are you all right?"

Jason caught him staring at his legs, and he shifted surreptitiously to conceal the stains. "I'm fine," he said defensively. He reached down and yanked the man on the bed's blood-splattered t-shirt over his head. Dick was confused for a second, until Jason put the shirt on.

Jason stood up and fisted his hands on his hips. "So what's the plan?"

Dick raised an eyebrow. "The plan is, you're going to stay here, and I'm going to-"

"The plan, Nightwing," Jason gritted.

Dick met Jason's glare with a worried frown. Jason was injured, possibly to a greater extent than Dick's cursory examination could determine; however, Dick couldn't be in two places at once, and he could use Robin's help to save those other kids on the monitors. He came to a quick decision. It was clear that Jason didn't want to be counted amongst tonight's victims – he wanted, no, _needed_ to be the hero, and Dick was going to do everything in his power to give him what he needed.

"Batman's on his way, but there are still armed hostiles in the area and men attacking children in these rooms. I need you to take these keys and go to rooms 14 and 25 while I track down the rest of the hostiles in this building."

Jason snatched the keys from his hand as a dark look crossed his face. "I'm on it." He turned to leave, but Dick stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Jason, I need to know that I can count on you to utilise restraint."

Jason shrugged him off. "Don't sweat it," he growled as he stalked stiffly out of the room.

Dick frowned after him, but he didn't have time to argue with him just then. He had more important things to worry about. He locked the two paedophiles in the room and then ran down the corridor in the direction of the main building.

* * *

By the time Batman arrived, Dick had subdued most of the paedophiles, and Jason had released a good majority of the children from their cells. For once, Batman was on clean up duty. True to his word, Jason had left the paedophiles he'd found in the children's cells alive. Maimed for life, perhaps, but in this case, Dick was willing to look the other way.

When they were done with their individual tasks, they converged on the main building, where Jason had rounded all the children up into one dazed and confused herd.

Dick gave the little boy he was with a hug before he joined Batman in a corner of the room. "Not bad, for a rookie and a former sidekick, if I do say so myself."

Batman crossed his arms over his impossibly broad chest. "Yes. It's a good thing you followed the van like I asked."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Couldn't let the 'I told you so' slide, could you?"

The corners of Batman's mouth twitched.

Dick snorted softly. It surprised him how much he missed these rare moments with Bruce. It was a shame that they were so few and far between.

"How did he do?"

Dick watched as Jason moved through the crowd of children - a hug here, a reassuring word there, a squeeze of a little girl's hand. "You should be proud."

Batman nodded. "The blood…?"

"It's not all his," Dick said carefully.

"Did they…hurt him?" Batman asked, his lip curling as though the words themselves tasted foul.

Dick closed his eyes behind the whiteout lenses of his Nightwing costume. He knew instinctively that Jason would want him to keep his suspicions to himself, knew it because if he had been in Jason's shoes, he would have done anything to keep his mentor and idol from knowing. But he also knew that Batman had already copied all the security footage from the control room's computers, and that he would find out eventually.

"It's unclear," he said at last. It was true, and there was still hope, no matter how small, that he'd gotten there in time.

But Batman wasn't much of an optimist. He sucked in a sharp breath as a grief stricken expression crossed his face, evident even beneath the cowl.

"That place was like a maze - it took forever to find the control room," Dick said, though the excuses rang hollow even in his own ears. "If I'd gotten there sooner-"

"No. I suspected that he had a personal stake in this, that he would be too emotionally involved to avoid taking unreasonable risks, and yet I sanctioned this op. The fault is mine, and mine alone." Batman turned and stalked away from him.

"Batman!" Dick called after him, but it was too late. When it came to Bruce, he always felt like he was too damn late.


	3. Chapter 3

Despite Bruce's insistence that Dick go home and Jason's repeated assurances that he was fine, all four of them (including Alfred) wound up in Dr Thompkins' clinic at five in the morning. As a result of Jason's vehement protestations, both Dick and Bruce were obliged to wait in the lobby. Bruce had hidden his annoyance at the fact that Alfred had gotten to go with Jason into the examination room rather poorly, but Dick had understood completely. Alfie always had been the more sympathetic parent, the one you could go to with your problems and expect a kind word rather than a lecture.

Dick checked his email and messed around on his phone while Bruce brooded in a silence so thick with angst that it hung in the air around him like a dark cloud. After he had refreshed his inbox umpteen times and gotten no new emails, Dick started to twitch. He was never very good at sitting still anyway, and certainly not when the people he cared about were hurting.

"Maybe they didn't…you know, go all the way," Dick said tentatively. His voice sounded unnaturally loud after the protracted silence.

Bruce tilted his head up to stare at him in a look just this side of hostile.

"I mean, I couldn't see much from the angle of the camera. Maybe I got there just in time," Dick said.

Bruce's eyes narrowed. "I'm going back," he said, standing. "Tell him…whatever you want."

"Bruce, wait, don't- dammit!" Dick swore. Now what was he going to tell Jason?

About half an hour later, Leslie emerged pushing Jason ahead of her, Alfred a step behind. Jason had tape on his nose, two black eyes, and an unsightly collection of bruises on his swollen face. Dick hurt just looking at him. At least Alfred had brought him some clothes, and Dick didn't have to see him looking small and vulnerable in that over-sized, blood-spattered shirt.

"How you holdin' up, little wing?" he asked, injecting as much cheer into his voice as he could manage.

"He's a trooper," Leslie said. "Concussion, broken nose, couple of fractured ribs, and a laceration that required fourteen stitches, but not the worst I've seen from you lot, not by a country mile."

"Jason?" Dick said, conscious that he hadn't answered him.

"Where's Bruce?" Jason asked instead, his gaze sweeping the small waiting area.

Dick exchanged a look with Alfred. "He figured you had me and Alf, so he went back to the cave to get a head start on his case notes, while it was all still fresh," he lied. Guilt churned in his empty stomach, and it was not a good combination.

Jason frowned. "Oh…okay," he said softly.

Dick forced a smile. "Come on, why don't we get you a hot shower and a warm bed? I bet you're dying for one of Alfred's sandwiches, too."

"Yeah, sure," Jason said without much enthusiasm.

"Come, Master Jay, you'll feel far better once you've had some of my homemade chicken soup," Alfred said as he herded him out the front door.

Dick hung back. Leslie arched an expectant eyebrow at him, but he waited till the door closed behind Alfred before asking, "Did you find any signs of…sexual assault?"

Leslie's eyes widened in surprise. "I didn't realise I was supposed to look for that. He didn't mention it to me."

Dick bit back a sigh. Why was he not surprised? "Did you take a blood sample?"

"Yes. He mentioned he'd been in direct contact with other people's blood, so I thought it wise to screen him for the basic blood-borne diseases, just in case. Honestly, you should all take more precautions in that area – you can never be too careful."

"Noted," Dick said. "Can you screen him for common STI's as well, just to be on the safe side?"

Leslie cocked her head. "Is there something you want to tell me, Dick?"

Dick pressed his lips into a thin line. "No, and I think the less you know, the better. Let me know when you get the results, and please, keep this between us." Then he turned and hurried out to the car.

* * *

By the time they got home, Jason was fast asleep.

"I'm not surprised," Alfred said. "Dr Thompkins gave him some very potent pain killers that also happen to have sedative side effects."

"I guessed as much," Dick said. He hefted Jason's dead weight in his arms and carried him into the manor. "I got him, Alfred. Feel free to hit the sack."

"Very well, if you're absolutely sure you won't need my assistance," Alfred said. "Shall I expect you for breakfast?"

Dick nodded. "Yeah. I think I'll stay for a few days, at least until I can be sure everything's okay."

"A wise decision, I think," Alfred said. "Good night, Master Richard."

"Good night, Alfred."

Dick carried Jason up the stairs and to his bedroom, where he laid Jason down on his bed. He took off Jason's shoes, and started to take off his jeans before he stopped. In light of recent events, he wondered how Jason would feel about waking up stripped to his underwear, even if he was safe in his own bed. After a moment, he re-buttoned Jason's jeans and just slipped him under the covers fully clothed.

As Dick was tucking him in, Jason's eyes fluttered open.

"B?" he mumbled as he cast blearily around the dark bedroom.

Dick bit his lip. "Hey buddy, I think he's still busy with his case notes. Why don't you get some sleep, and I'm sure you'll see him in the morning."

Dick stood to leave, but Jason grabbed his hand to stop him. "Dick?"

Dick hesitated. "Yeah, Jay?"

"I'm sorry I lied to you," Jason said quietly.

Dick gently removed Jason's hand from his. "It's late. We can talk about this in the morning. Just go to sleep, ok?"

"But…don't you even want to know why?"

Dick sat back down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. Apparently, Jason was determined to have this conversation, even in his exhausted, drug-addled state. "I know why. Look, I understand what it's like - the pressure, the fear of failure, the need to prove yourself, to impress him. I know it can drive you to do things – reckless, irresponsible things, but-"

"No!" Jason protested. "No. That's not…it wasn't like that." He stared down at his lap, where his hands were slowly twisting some serious wrinkles into the duvet cover. Alfred wasn't going to like that. "If I'd brought the case to Bruce straight away, then I would've had to explain how I knew about it, and I just…I didn't want you guys to know about…about the stuff I did, before. I thought that if I could let Bruce 'catch' me gathering intel, then he would think I got all that info from my investigations, from all those 'witnesses' I interviewed. I know that's not any better of a reason, and you don't have to forgive me or anything. I just, I thought you should know why."

Dick's heart sank. It was one thing to suspect, quite another to hear it all laid out like that. He gave Jason's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Look at me, Jay. No one judges you for the things you had to do to survive on the streets, okay? You're a part of this family now, and nothing's ever going to change that. We'll always care about you, no matter what."

A certain tension seemed to drain from Jason, and he yawned widely. "For real?" he mumbled, his eyes already sliding closed again as the drugs finally won out over his stubbornness.

"For real," Dick said. By the time he reached the door, he was relieved to see that Jason had already fallen back asleep.

* * *

As expected, Dick found Bruce in the cave combing through the control room's surveillance footage. The cowl was dangling from his shoulders as he hunched over the console, his haggard features emphasised by the artificial glow of the monitors.

"Bruce-"

"Watch this," Bruce said.

"Bruce, please, this is-"

"_Look_," Bruce commanded. The sound echoed eerily around the vast cave.

Dick reluctantly lifted his eyes to the big screen monitor. On display was a slightly grainy image of one of the six by six cells that Jason and so many other children had been held in. This one was currently empty.

"Watch," Bruce said as he hit play.

The door opened, and a man came in carrying a very naked Jason on his shoulder. He dumped Jason on the bed with about as much care as he'd give to a sack of laundry. He fastened the collar attached to the bed around Jason's neck and left quickly, closing the door behind him.

Bruce hit fast forward, and for a few seconds, they just watched Jason lie on the bed unconscious. When Jason woke, Bruce resumed normal playback.

Jason opened his eyes and rolled over into a foetal ball.

"You see what he's doing?"

Dick was mystified for a second before he considered what he would be doing in that situation. "He's taking stock of the situation, cataloguing his injuries."

Bruce nodded.

Jason sat up and buried his head in his hands.

"Now he's feeling sorry for himself," Bruce narrated.

Anger flared in Dick's chest. "For god's sake-"

"He's just realised he lost his watch," Bruce continued, ignoring Dick's outburst. "He starts to panic, but look."

Dick continued to watch despite his growing unease. After a few minutes, he noticed Jason begin to look around the room with purpose.

"He's pulled himself together, and now he's systematically looking for escape routes," Bruce said with a fierce pride. "Look there, he hesitates when the second man comes into the room. You can almost see him calculating his chances and adapting his tactics."

Dick looked away from the screen as one of the men straddled Jason and punched him in the face. "Bruce, I can't-"

"There," Bruce said suddenly. He shot Dick an irritated look when he realised that he was no longer looking at the screen. "You missed it," he growled. He rewound the tape, leaving Dick little choice but to watch the instant replay.

Dick recognised the snippets of video that he had seen from the control room. The two men grappled with Jason, one with his hands and the other with his legs. Again, the larger man struggling with Jason's legs mostly obscured his view of anything other than the thug's broad back. It was one of the reasons that Dick had originally mistaken the child on the monitor for a little girl.

"Can you see?" Bruce asked, and the desperation in his voice was like a knife to the chest.

Dick laid a hand on Bruce's shoulder. "Does it matter? He just needs to know that you love him, that you still respect him, that he's still a part of this family, and that none of this is going to change the way you see him."

Bruce shrugged off his hand. "Look again," he insisted, rewinding the tape.

"Bruce-"

Bruce suddenly slammed his fist down onto the console, making Dick jump in surprise. "Either help me, or stop wasting my time!" he snarled.

"I _am_ helping you!" Dick said, his voice rising as he gesticulated in frustration. "I know this is your way of coping with the situation, but it isn't going to help Jason. Don't you understand that he needs-"

"How dare you presume to tell _me_ what he needs?" Bruce shouted, standing so abruptly that he sent his chair rolling away from him to slam into a nearby console. "I know what's best for him, not you, so if you're not going to be useful, then just…do what you're best at, and leave!"

Dick stared at him in stunned silence, his heart pounding in his chest. "You don't mean-"

"Get out!" Bruce roared. "Was that clear enough for you?"

Dick's hands clenched into fists as impotent rage burned through him. "Fine, you want me gone, I'm gone! Next time you need a third man on a job, feel free to call someone else!" Then he stalked to his motorcycle, gunned the engine, and peeled out of the cave, his screaming tires echoing loudly enough to send a hoard of bats flushing out of the cave in his wake.

* * *

Jason descended the stairs to the dining room carefully, his ribs aching with every jarring step despite the horse pill-sized painkillers he'd downed upon waking. Even wrapped in a fuzzy, opoid cocoon, he still felt like death warmed over. It was worth it though, for the kids. The looks on their faces when he'd busted in on those creeps perving on them – it was like their wildest dreams had come true. He didn't think he'd ever forget that as long as he lived. Which, considering how mad Bruce probably was at him, wasn't likely to be too much longer. He remembered what Dick had said last night about no one judging him, but he didn't believe any of it for a second. Dick was one of those glass half full types who drove everyone crazy with their unrelenting optimism, but Jason didn't know how to be anything but a realist. After all, why would Bruce have split last night at the clinic if he hadn't been unholy pissed off at him? He'd just found out that Robin was a whore. How hard must that have been to take? Plus, Jason had risked countless kids' lives, nearly compromised an operation, and almost gotten himself killed. If Dick "Golden Boy" Grayson could get fired from being Robin, what was to stop Bruce from firing a total screw up like him?

He limped into the dining room to find it empty, but the distant clink of glassware drew him to the kitchen.

"Hey Alfie, where is everybody?"

"Master Jason, what are you doing out of bed?" Alfred asked. If he'd been surprised to see Jason, he didn't let on.

Jason shrugged. "I'm hungry. What else was I supposed to do?"

"You could have rung me. That's what the internal house line is for." Alfred turned off the taps and wiped his hands on his apron. "Come, Master Jay, we should get you back to bed. You're aggravating your injuries just by standing there."

"Aw come on, Alf, I don't wanna go back to bed," Jason complained. "I'm already down here; can't I at least eat at the table?"

Alfred sighed. "Yes, but then it's straight back to bed with you. Now, what would you like to eat? I could make your favourite – hot dogs? We don't have any chilli I'm afraid, but I could melt some cheese on it."

Jason's mouth watered. "That sounds great." Alfred offered him an arm, and together, they made their way back to the dining room. "Where is...everybody?" he asked breathlessly, sweat beading on his forehead from even that minor exertion.

"Master Richard phoned this morning to inform me that he had been unexpectedly summoned back to Bludhaven on official police business. He wanted me to pass on his regret that he couldn't stay longer, and his wishes for your speedy recovery."

"Oh…" Jason said, trying to contain his disappointment. It wasn't like Dick had said he'd stay or anything. In fact, it was sort of presumptuous of him to even think that Dick would drop his busy schedule just to hang around the house with him, kind words or no. "Is Bruce up yet?"

"Master Bruce is working down in the cave," Alfred said. Jason must have scowled in response to that, because Alfred added, "He probably surmised that you were asleep, and didn't want to wake you."

"Well, I'm awake now," Jason said. "Can I go down and see him?"

"I think that you should eat your lunch, and then we'll see," Alfred hedged.

Jason sighed, but he allowed Alfred to deposit him in a chair before he returned to the kitchen. As soon as he heard the clank of pans, he got out of his chair and shuffled as quickly as he could towards the clock in the hallway.

By the time he made it down to the first landing, his vision was swimming and he was having a hard time finding the next step. He wasn't about to turn back now, though. He had to see Bruce, had to explain himself, apologise, whatever it took to make this better, because what if...

"He won't," he whispered, shaking his head as much in denial as to clear his vision. God, he really wished he could believe that.

He forced his uncooperative body down the last flight of stairs, driven by his growing anxiety. When he finally reached the floor of the cave, he looked up and gasped at the bank of monitors, each one projecting a grainy, black and white image of himself being…attacked. He froze as his brain ground to a screeching halt. The sheer humiliation of Batman just sitting there _watching_ that… Tears of shame stung his eyes and suddenly, he felt more naked, more exposed and violated than he had…maybe ever, because yeah, it'd sucked when it'd actually happened, but at least then no one had seen it, least of all Batman!

Bruce spun around at the noise. "What are you doing down here?" he demanded. "Why aren't you in bed?"

But Jason didn't hear the words, only the tone - the angry, accusational tone that Batman used on criminals. The man on screen screamed in silent agony, and all at once, Jason could taste the thick, warm, metallic blood filling his mouth, smell the musty scent of the man's sweaty groin pressed against his face, feel the hairy gobbets of flesh against his tongue. He stumbled backwards with a wordless cry. Suddenly, Batman was right there, in his space, crowding him against the stair railing, so close that the stench of stale sweat, body odour and Kevlar seemed to envelope him like a cloud.

Gauntleted hands seized his shoulders and shook him so hard his head throbbed. Bruce's expression was terrifying, his face gaunt and tortured, eyes bloodshot and limned with dark circles. "Jason, look at me. Those men, did they…did they rape you?"

Jason flinched. There it was, that word, the one he'd been very deliberately avoiding even thinking, and just like that, Bruce had used it, had applied it to him, like, like it was _applicable_.

Bruce's burning gaze bored into him like maybe he had Superman's X-ray eyes, and all he had to do was glance at Jason to see every stain on his soul, and every filthy, horrible thing he'd never wanted anyone to see. "Yes or no, tell me the truth. I need to know what happened!"

Bruce was so close it was overwhelming. Jason could barely breathe, barely think except for that word, repeating itself over and over in his head like the world's most insidious pop song. And then he was crying, no, blubbering, like a stupid fucking baby. He told himself to get a grip, that Robin didn't cry, but it was too much, and he just…couldn't.

Bruce let go of him suddenly, like he couldn't even stand to touch him, and Jesus fuck, that hurt. "God, what've I done?" he whispered, burying his face in his hands. "I should've known which one, I should've been there, I should never have-"

"N-no," Jason protested. "It's not your fault, B. I'm the one who screwed up. I shouldn't have…I should've been smarter, fought harder, been _better_. I shouldn't…I shouldn't have _let them_!"

Bruce shook his head. "No, Jason, don't you see? I should never have let Dick join my crusade, let alone allowed you to follow in his footsteps. From now on-"

"No!" Jason shouted, panic rising in his chest. "You can't! I promise I'll do better. I'll do anything you want! Just please, don't do this."

"It's not a punishment," Bruce said with a frown. "It's for your own good."

"Please, Bruce," Jason begged. He'd never begged for anything in his life, not even that time Ma was hallucinating and wanted to play Russian roulette, and a part of him was sickened by his own obsequious grovelling, but he just couldn't lose the only two things in his life that he ever really cared about. "If you take Batman and Robin away, I…I won't have anything left. Please. I need this."

For a moment, Bruce didn't react, but then he grasped Jason's shoulders and knelt stiffly in front of him, bringing them eye level. The sudden silence in the cave was so complete that Jason could hear the blood rushing in his ears. He stared into Bruce's haunted expression, searching for some sign one way or the other, certain that the next words out of Bruce's mouth would mean exile in every sense of the word.

"All right," Bruce said at last. "I'll let you continue as Robin, and we'll keep this between us. But you'll have to try harder. I mean it, Jason. No more lies, and no more mistakes."

Jason nodded vigorously as relief washed over him, so intense it made him dizzy. "No, sir. I promise."

Bruce gave his shoulders a firm squeeze. "Good. Now get some rest. I've got a lot of work to catch up on."

Jason slowly made his way back up the stairs to the manor. No more mistakes. He could do that. He just had to work harder, that's all. He would prove to Bruce that he wasn't weak, and that he was worthy to be Robin, or he was going to fucking die trying.

* * *

Dick listened to the voicemail again just to be sure. Jason's blood panels had come back clean, and from Leslie's report on his latest check up, he was on the mend. He took a deep breath and exhaled, and then he picked up the phone.

"Wayne residence."

"Answering your own phone? What ever will people think?" Dick said with forced levity.

"Alfred is at the grocery store. Is there something you need?" Bruce asked coldly.

Dick sighed. "I actually called to talk to Jason."

"He's at school. Did you try his cell?"

"He didn't pick up." Dick frowned. "Wait, you sent him back to school already?"

"It's been two weeks, and he's missed enough school as it is. I've already been told that if he misses any more days this year, he won't be allowed to graduate with his class," Bruce said.

Dick winced – he hadn't realised it'd been two weeks since it happened, but he'd been so busy with the BPD and his nightly patrols… "But I thought his grades were fine," he said.

"It's not about his grades, it's about pedantically enforcing the rules and showing Bruce Wayne that he can't game the system, no matter how much money he has," Bruce growled. "But you didn't call to discuss my disputes with the administration at Thomas Wayne Middle School, did you?"

Dick bit back a sigh. "No, I didn't. I wanted to tell you that Jason's bloodwork came back clean – considering what happened, Dr Thompkins screened him for standard blood-borne diseases, but I also had her include common sexually transmitted ones."

"Yes, she told me. You didn't honestly think she'd keep that information from me, did you?"

Dick silently rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I just didn't want her to upset Jason, especially if the tests came back negative."

"I appreciate the concern, and the foresight, but the standard screen for blood-borne diseases would have sufficed," Bruce said.

"Wait, what?" Dick said, even as he struggled to contain the hope expanding in his chest, just in case he'd misunderstood. "Does that mean what I think it does? Did the tapes-"

"He told me himself," Bruce interjected.

"And you believed him?" Dick asked. "He wouldn't be the first rape victim on the planet to lie about it, you know."

"He was very sincere," Bruce said. "I didn't think a polygraph was necessary."

Dick snorted. "So he's really ok…" As it started to sink in, an invisible weight seemed to fall away from him, leaving him feeling lighter and happier than he had since the night he'd walked in on that grisly scene.

"I believe we've established that. Is there something else you want?" Bruce asked impatiently. "I need to get back to work."

"No, I just-"

A loud click preceded the dial tone. With a shake of his head, he turned off the phone and set it back in its cradle. So much for fence mending. But well, their relationship always had been rather cyclical. He wasn't that worried about Bruce; he would come around eventually. The important thing was that Jason okay. He smiled with relief. In their line of work, it was important to celebrate every win, even the minor ones and the near misses. This? This was definitely a win.

* * *

Epilogue

From the last will and testament of Bruce Wayne:

_Of all my failures, you have been my biggest. I take full responsibility for your wayward and self-destructive path in life. You were broken, and I thought I could put the pieces back together. I thought I could do for you what could never be done for me. Make you whole. What happened to you as a child…the terror, the pain, the horrors. But that secret is one that neither of us should have kept. You needed repair, and instead I gave you an outlet to act out on. For that, I apologize._


End file.
